Journals of a Hitokiri
by Saiyagirl
Summary: Everyone knows that Yukishiro Tomoe kept a diary during the Bakumatsu... But what if Kenshin too, had kept a journal? What if the thoughts of Japan's greatest assassin had been recorded on paper?


Standard disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. It is owned by Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shuiesha, Shounen Jump, and Sony Entertainment, Fuji TV, Media Blasters & ADV Films. This was written in no way to make a profit. 

Author's Note: This was intended to read like a journal. Expect what you will from a 14 year-old who hasn't had a day of proper schooling in his life. ^_~

Journals of a Hitokiri

The Genji Era: January 1864

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January 1st 

The zori shop I visit today was spared a robbery. I hit the thief on the shoulder with my wakizashi and that was the end of him. Everyone in the shop staired at me. I don't think it was a verry good idea. 

****

January 2nd 

I did mension that I now have my own set of daisho, did I not? If questioned while in town, I'm to say that I'm samurai. It really can't mater less: our base is hidden, and I rarely venture out. Katsura-san and Shinsaku-san picked out the blades for me just a fewl days ago. Arm guards, new sandals, hair-tie and all. I like the katana better becus I'm more used to it. Liter than the katana I used to practis wit though. If only the Master could see me now! 

****

January 6th 

I'm not in the mood for writing. In fact, I espeshally detest writing. Reminds me of the Master to much. After all, he was the one who had taut me this particular skill, among others. Most of the time he was yellin at my horribel speeling. He spent more time on my sord-art than langage anyway. Half my troubles today stem from the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and the other half stem from the Master himself. To hel wit it all. Yare…I'm afride his langage has rubbed off on me to. 

I have a new look to-day. Iidzuka-san helped me tie up my hair high on the back of my head. Then he fasened the arm guards and even insisted on helping me with my black gi. As if I were 5 and not 14. 

I supose I could reveel some confidential information here. Our base is located just pas the markets stalls outside the outposts near the Kuwashu. It's verry small. Verry cramped. Some-what dirty. Katsura-san says we'll be moving in a month or so. I rilly hope he hurries. I'm so bored. There's nothing to do but play shogi and go. I like go beter. The consep interests me. Mayhaps I'll ask Iidzuka-san later to play with me. 

****

January 7th 

Mayhaps I should introducs myself, if by any chance, an unforchunate soul should reed this. Very well: as of January 7th, 1864, my name is Himura Kenshin, 14 years old, chosen hitokiri of the Ishinshishi. This book that I'm writing on was given to me from one of my Ishinshishi…what's the word? Comrads? He has a nice face and logn black hiar. Som other tim, I would've liked to know his name, but Katsura-san says that names are dangerus. Wutever that means.

****

January 8th 

Today, I recieved a black envelpe in the mail, adressed to 'Hitokiri'. Katsura-san says that it contanes the name of 'one-who-must-be-killed'. I don't know exacly how to feel about this. Excited or afride? I don't know. The job is to be carryed out at midnite. The envelpe tells where he will be and who will be in his party. Kami, I hope this goes well

Later ~

Oh GODS My rubish bin is stinking of vomit. Kami-sama My hands are so RED Theres red stains on my katana Thers so much bile in my mouth and blood alover my hakama theres so much TOO much I can't I can't I think I even forgot chiburi, and now my saya is briming with thick red liquid Somebody _please_ help me

****

January 9th 

I stayed in this mornin and Katsura-san let me. I did not slep and I can not eat. I throw up on the floor and now my rom reeks. 

I turned my saya upside-don and blood-flakes run out. My blades are splochy. 

"Have you killed before? Can you kill?" I still remember Katsura-san's werds. No, aparently not.

But I had said yes. Yes, for the sake of Japan. Had I don right? 

****

January 10th 

I did not slep yesternite and I did not eat all fore-day. My head aches and my sord-hand is num. I am not hungry and I can barely walk without falling. Katsura-san speaks to me but I don't hear. My cloths obivously can't be brot to the washer-woman, so I have to do it myself. The warm sopy water runs pink. 

****

Janury 11th

Good Kami ANOTHER one so _soon_?!?!

I can't do this again I can't – I won't 

Not so soon!

****

January 12th

I'm shaking so bad; I can't writ. I dreamed of Shimia Dekino last nite. His face just as I plunged my katana – his expression of utter hoplesnes – his men trying to save him – they move to slow for me – one slashe apiece; that's all it took, and K'so all the blood on my sord, on the ground, on the bodies, on the walls, on ME runningandrunning like a stead red river. Mayhaps next tim I'll do it with my eyes closed.

Woek up three tims in the nite and found myself clutching my katana each tim. It's monstrus – how close I come to forgotting. K'so, now I'm babbling 

****

January 15th

Katsura-san says I take to long. He says that he should be able to see me ariving at Ishinshishi base before he sleps. Kami-sama – how much faster am I to do it?!?! Boku no bakabakabaka…I _won't _think of it. I _must_ remember that everything I do is for the Greater Good. I _must_ remember the Greater Good… 

****

January 16th

Hireno-san has generusly offored to tutor my Japanese. He is one of the few Ishinshishi members that I actually know the name of. Katsura-san introduced me to him as the secretrist/tactic comander, so I know that I must have a need for his name. I know only the names for three other Ishinshishi members other than Katsura-san: Shinsaku-san: his asistant, Hireno-san: secretrist/tactic comander, and Bishibi-san: the medic. I only kno Iidzuka-san becus he introdused himself. Ara; again Katsura-san says that names are dangerus. I don't under-stad it at all.

****

January 17th

Black envelop. Shimitta; how I have come to _hate_ those words: 'To the Ishinshishi Hitokiri'. That – _that_, shurly, is all I shal ever be… nothing but a damned hitokiri. 

Late Nite ~

Money coms into this for the firs tim – coins are stuffed by the bag into my trunks. 1,000,000 yen per man. At the rate I go, one could ritire in a year and die welthy. Every black envelop makes me kill dozens-a-tim… I can drown meself in blood-money.

I won't speke of what I do. If I speke, Katsura-san will know. He will _know_, and then I really will lose myself.

****

January 18th

Black envelop. Mayhaps they think that the more I kill the more I become acustom to death. That is not so. I shall NEVER be acustomed to death; I throu up so much my stumick aches. One can only kill so much…isn't that what they say? The daily paper tells of dead Shogunates every week. I read the paper and see what they call me: 'A unknown, merciless killer, most probably a hitokiri at large – one who kills with no thoght and no guilt'. I don't know about this guilt, but I certinly do it with thoght. That's what scares me. 

****

January 19th

My third black envelop – in a susesion of three. The targat is a man named Shigekura Jubee. I am incredibly weary – I don not know why. My mind is so blank, I can think of nothing at all

Later ~

I return from a bloody nite – bloody meself, for the first tim. How could I have sliped? That I do not know. I am faster and have more skill. My cheke is burning with hot, liqud pain. In the mirer, I see a bloody wund on my face – the bite of a katana. Slashing only two dozen men should not have tire me like this. My mind is so blank – lik I am forgeting something. What am I forgeting? I can't remember. 

I must bandage my face. The blood is seapin across my face, down my nek and into my gi. It hurts more than a face-wund is supose to. I have bled much more than this – but the slash hurts more then any body wund I've ever had. 

I can't walk – can barely hold my brush. I have enouf blood on me to use for ink. 

The man who cut me…I don't particuler remember his name, but his face flashes in my head. He was not a match for me, but I think it was his will held. I don't know why, but I feel a sort of respet for this man… Kiyosato? Lucky for him I ended it quick. One stab straight through the heart. I wish the dead souls would liv well… Huh. Fat chance. 

My face still bleeds. If it scars, I shall never be rid of Akira's cursed memory… 

****

January 22nd 

Bishibi-san made me to lie in his clinic for 3 days and now I have two black envelpes waiting. Hireno-san takes the tim to teach me my third langage leson of the wek. (I'll get them 3 – 4 tims a wek now, no exeption.) After reading a short pretend letter I had composed, he determined that while my grammer was nearly perfect, my spelling was hidius. Then he bid me to right down every spelling mistake I made ten times. I made 41 spelling mistakes. That's 410 words to copy out –on the futon in Bishibi-san's clinic no less. What a nitemare. My cheek still hurts with dul jolts of pane every few minits. 

Every time my eyes close, I see faces – so many faces. The faces of the dead. I should hire a monk to pray over the dead souls for me. 

I think I'll folow up on the idea with Katsura-san. 

****

January 24th

The gods _must_ hate me. It _did_ scar, for the love of Buuda. 

****

January 29th

The scar runs right down my left cheek – and had it been a inch higher, I would've lost my eye. Coins are taking up to much room. I will ask for yen notes next time. 

Hireno-san is aboslutly apailed at my spelling. I told him that I got it from the same man who taut me my dinstictive Hiten Mitsurugi Kendo Ryu. Hireno-san just shook his head and muttered. 

Took two birds with one stone – got rid of both envelops on the same night. Katsura-san says that the ones who sent the letters to me were starting to be worried. I threw up on the spot after the death-blow and then had to cleen it up myself. I am werried over this habbit. At lest now, I'm more careful. One scar is enouf for me. 

****

January 30th

The smell of rotting blood lingers in my noes. (Can blood rot? It's my theery.) I can't think and my head spinns. I just _know_ I've forgoting something. 

****

January 31st

Japanese lesson at mid-day. Black envelope at night. Top army governor Tokuji Fuko is his name. What am I writing? I _said_ that I would speak of my work no more. I don't think I can bear to see it on plain parchmen. In fact, I'll swear now, on parchmen, that I will _not_ speak of my job… I don't think I can manage it anyway…

The other Ishinshishi only know me as 'hitokiri', and they stay far away from me. Atcualy, it's just when I get envelops. When I'm sean with a black envelop, everyone backs off fast. It's good to ponder my actions peacefully, but it makes walouing in my miseree all the more loney. Gods! 

Author's Note: Well, I _tried_ to follow this as close as possible to the manga. There _may_ be a few glitches, but most of it's legitimate. Kogoro, Shinsaku, and Iizuka are canon characters straight from the manga. 


End file.
